


How The Raven Made Mr.  Kuryakin Dance

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Raven stories are abundant, but they were brand new to Illya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How The Raven Made Mr.  Kuryakin Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Terristellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terristellis/gifts).



Illya was running through the forest, tripping over low bushes and limbs to fall hard onto an even harder ground. He rose and started to run, only to fall again. Bruised, exhausted, and out of ideas, he laid still. If he could only have a minute, maybe two, some of his flagging energy might return.

Try as he might, he couldn’t even remember what he was running from. It was something… awful… maybe. He got to his hands and knees, ignoring the shooting pains and panted. There was the sharp crack of a branch breaking and with a terror he’d never known, he looked up and gasped. Dropping to the ground, he covered his face, wincing as sharp beaks cut into his flesh again and again.

_Caw, caw, caw_

Suddenly amid the flapping wings, he heard music, an odd tune, haunting and mournful, and he chanced a look. The birds had abandoned him and were dancing around two figures, their faces hidden by raven masks.

A searing pain radiated through his leg and Illya tore his attention away from the dancers and to his limb. A raven sat there, its beak glistening. Illya didn’t need to look to know why it shined like that, the pain was enough. He kicked at it with the other leg and then looked up at the sound of a hundred wings.

The flock fell upon him and smothered the air from his lungs. He managed to gasp out, “Napoleon!”

“Wha?”

The sleepiness of the respond struck a cord and Illya opened his eyes. Within seconds, beautiful reality flooded back to him. They were in a cave, not far from their target, and awaiting nightfall. Napoleon had somehow ended up using him as a mattress as they bade their time before the attack.

“Get off me, you oaf.” Illya pushed Napoleon roughly aside and his partner woke fully.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that you need to concentrate upon your weight loss regimen.”

“I’ll have you know my weight is perfect for a man my size and age.”

“Not when you’re on top of me, it isn’t.”

“Wow, what made you so grumpy this morning… afternoon?” Napoleon adjusted his question as he studied the angle of the sun. Illya stood and started to stamp the life back into his lower body.

“Nothing—“

And tell me another story, Illya,” Napoleon interrupted. “This is me. I know you.”

Illya smiled and rubbed the pins and needles out of his leg. “Bad dreams.”

“THRUSH bad dreams? Something we’ve overlooked in the grand scheme?” Napoleon was all attention.

“No, well, they were bird like, but not THRUSH. I was being attacked by crows… no, ravens.” Napoleon chuckled and Illya felt a jolt of anger shoot through him. His partner must have seen it in his eyes.

“I’m not laughing at you, Illya. I’m laughing at the coincidence and maybe a bit at the irony.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This land and the people who lived here, they gave birth to the Raven stories. I mean, they weren’t the only ones because the Raven as a trickster lives in many ancient cultures.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You mean I know something cultural you don’t?” Napoleon placed a hand over his heart as if having palpitations.

“Funny guy.”

“The Raven stories are ancient and part of the creation myth for many Native American people, as well as Tibetan and others.”

“For example?”

Napoleon thought for a moment and then patted the ground next to him. Illya regarded him warily for a moment.

“You aren’t going to sit on me again, are you?”

“Scout’s honor.” Napoleon gave him a sharp salute. After a moment, Illya settled back down and crossed his arms.

“Very well. Educate me about the Raven.”

“I will.” Napoleon got comfortable and cleared his throat:

_Long ago, there was only darkness for a greedy old man and his daughter kept the sun, the moon, and the stars hidden in three cedar boxes. They kept the light all for themselves and refused to share with anyone. This annoyed many but none so much as the Raven._

_"It's hard to go hunting or fishing in the dark," said Raven. "This greedy man must learn to share."_

“This reminds me of THRUSH,” Illya muttered.

“Hush and let me tell the story.”

_The next time the man's daughter went to get water from the spring, Raven was waiting. He turned himself into a tiny hemlock needle and fell into her basket. The girl dipped her basket into the spring and took a long drink. She swallowed the needle with the water._

_Several months later, the girl had a baby boy._

“Good grief and you’ve been doing it the hard way all this time.”

Napoleon chuckled and punched Illya lightly in the shoulder. “And having a ball doing it.”

_The baby had bright, glittery eyes like a raven. But the girl and her father didn't suspect that the baby was really Raven in disguise._

_One day, the baby began to cry. "Gah! Gah!" he wailed in Raven's rasping voice._

“I thought all babies did was eat, sleep and cry.”

“They also go through a large number of diapers, mostly due to the first two. If you don’t stop interrupting, I ‘ll never get this told.”

“Sorry.”

_"Please stop crying," begged the grandfather, but the baby did not stop. He cried all day and he cried all night. The old man and his daughter tried everything to keep the baby quiet, but nothing worked._

_Finally, the grandfather gave the baby the smallest cedar box. "Play with this," he said. "It should keep you quiet."_

_The shiny stars inside the box made the baby laugh. He tossed them into the air. The stars floated out through the smoke hole and into the sky. The baby began to wail again. "Gah! Gah!"_

_"Quickly, daughter!" cried the old man. "Give him the second box!"_

_Inside the second box was the moon. The baby patted the moon happily and rolled it over the floor. He bounced it against the walls. Finally, he bounced the moon so hard it flew up the smoke hole just like the stars. The baby began to cry even louder than before._

_The grandfather covered his ears. "The last box! Open the last box!" he yelled._

_The baby opened the third box and pulled out the sun. With a happy giggle, he tossed the sun through the smoke hole and into the sky._

Napoleon’s voice has a pleasant sing-song rhythm to it and Illya felt his eyelids growing heavier.

_"Caw! Caw!" crowed the happy baby in Raven's rasping voice._

_"It's Raven!" cried the grandfather. "We've been tricked!"_

_But before the angry old man could grab him, Raven changed back into a bird. He flew out through the smoke hole into the bright sunshine. The greedy old man was angry. But Raven didn't care. The sun, the moon, and the many bright stars were stuck up in the sky. The earth was no longer dark. And it's been that way ever since. ***_

“So what do you think about that, Illya?”

He heard Napoleon ask the question, but was far too comfortable to make the effort to speak. After a moment, he felt Napoleon settle in closer beside him and Illya let himself drift off.

 

Illya was running, but not from fear this time. The ravens were more of a guiding bank of feathers now, directing him down a narrow path.

Again, he heard the tune, thin and tremulous.

“I know that song,” he murmured and looked at the figure before him. “I know you. You are The Raven.” The man bowed eloquently to him. “You are a trickster.”

“Guilty as charged.” The voice was hoarse.

“But you aren’t evil. You are the voice of the people. You help the wronged, although it might not seem it at that moment.”

Another deep bow. “You do know me.”

Illya squinted at the ground, just able to make out fallen figures. “What happened here?”

“These things wanted to harm my people. I couldn’t allow that. They are evil birds who take and take with no regard for others. They must be stopped.”

“That’s my job.”

The figure tipped his head back and a second, shorter figure danced into view, seemingly oblivious to their conversation. As the head went back, Illya though he recognized that cleft chin, but surely not.

“Our job.” “God speed, brother.” The figure waved its wing-like sleeves and started to retreat, only to turn back. “In the beginning, The Raven was white, you know.”

 

“Illya?” He felt his shoulder being shaken and Illya opened his eyes.

“Yes?”

“It’s nearly time.” Napoleon pointed to a small canister of Sterno. “There’s still heat and I left you some food.”

“Thanks.” Illya made short work of the K rations. There was no reason to draw out the process. It was basically just a high caloric, brown mess of indistinguishable foodstuffs. Still, it filled the hole and warmed him up.

Hefting his backpack up, he tucked his blond hair into a watch cap and nodded.

                                                                                ****

 

They moved quickly through the woods, doing their best to be as silent as possible. Occasionally, Napoleon would pause, consult a map with a quick flick of his penlight and point. Illya followed, close on his heels, ever alert. The melody still played in his head and it calmed him.

They came into a clearing and Napoleon slammed to a stop. “What the hell…?”

Annoyed, Illya stepped around him and understood his partner’s shock. The area around the satrapy entrance was devastated, black with destruction. The few figures who’d managed to crawl out were shredded beyond recognition.

“What happened?” Napoleon whispered, even as ground fog began to roll in and Illya realized it wasn’t a cemetery the figures had danced in, it had been this clearing, blasted to ruins.

“Looks like someone beat us to the punch.”

“But who?”

Illya looked off into the shadows and saw the figures moving to an ancient tune. One pulled off its hood and let its blond hair tumble free.  Shyly, it looked back at Illya and nodded. “A higher authority, I should think. By the way, Napoleon, did you know that in the beginning, ravens were white?” And Illya began to hum a song, an old one, an important one.

  

 

*** this is a compilation of many different sites and versions of this tale and it goes by three different names that I can figure. I got this from: https://www.scribd.com/doc/28890492/Tlingit-folktales-How-Raven-Stole-the-Sun

 

 

 


End file.
